We're All Just Hopeless Romantics
by Jewleighuh
Summary: Short stories and drabbles centered around Lydia and Stiles.


Lydia lit the last scented candle in her living room. She propped on hand against the table she set up and stared out her sliding glass doors. The night was filled with many twinkling lights placed many miles away, and her eyes reflected the full moon right back into the sky.

She also stared out at her decorations. Lanterns, pumpkins, and autumn leaves gave her patio a sense of warmth and life. She smiled at her authenticity and ran upstairs into her room to get ready. There was no doubt that guests would be arriving shortly.

Inside the house, she delicately placed orange and black all around. Her eye for detail and color was _outstanding_. In the living room sat the snacks and beverages, and with her parents out of town, the drinks didn't just include punch.

She fluffed her hair in the mirror, surveying her costume. Her red skirt bounced well above the knee, and blue upper body portion of the costume hugged her, fitting her curves nicely. She snapped the cuffs on her wrists into place and slowly placed the gold headband on her strawberry blonde hair.

She was WonderWomen, of course. A person that Lydia honestly thought she could relate to.

Car lights flashed up into her window and she ran down stairs to great her first guests. After about 30 or more Beacon Hill High students entered her home, her best friend showed up alone with to other boys.

Even with all the supernatural occurrences, she was ecstatic to see them.

"Hey! You made it!" She said as she hugged Allison. Lydia nodded at the two boys, "Scott. Stiles."

Allison was wearing a simple black outfit with cat ears on her head and eyeliner whiskers, while Scott was wearing his everyday clothes with a set of fake fangs in his mouth. He was a werewolf. How typical. The two connected arms and strolled down the hallway to meet the rest of the school.

Lydia then set her eyes upon Stiles. Her and this boy had been growing closer lately, and she counted him as one of her good friends. His hair was spiked into two sections on his head, and he wore a dog tag that laid limply against his white, tight v-neck. Lydia wasn't dumb, she understood that he was trying to be wolverine.

He stood outside the door, grinning sheepishly at her. One of the things Lydia adored about him was his old fashion-ness. Stiles was the type of guy who needed to be properly allowed in before entering a home.

She motioned with her hand towards the direction of the music and said, smiling at the boy, "Welcome to my party."

The two walked into the house together.

"I'm surprised, Lydia, I didn't really take you for the DC Comics type." Stiles half yelled over the music, facing her. He placed his hands in his pocket and did that _thing_ that made her weak in the knees. Which of lately, was pretty much everything he did.

Something about him was just **so **enticing. He was genuine and kind, something Lydia wasn't used to in a boy. He also challenged her, but not in the way a person thought he would. Lydia was used to being tossed around and told what to do from someone she loved, and for some reason Stiles did the opposite. His mindset was so selfless and endearing.

He was the right kind of cute with tousled hair and bourbon eyes, the right kind of cute that every flail and sarcastic comment sent shivers down her spine.

Of course, she'd never admit to any of that.

"Well, excuse me for not being a big fan of Marvel." She teased.

Pretending to be taken aback, he held his chest where his heart should be and exclaimed "Ouch!"

She giggled at him, and looked up at him after he straightened out. He was the perfect height for her. Short enough to have a conversation with but tall enough for her to stand on her tiptoes, lace her arms around his neck, and-

"Would you like a drink?" She cleared her throat. He nodded his head in agreement.

"Any preferences?" She asked again as they made their way to the beverages.

"Alcoholic and strong." He replied and held out his hand. Lydia looked at him before pouring rum into a half filled solo cup of coke. She waited until he gave her another nod, and filled the rest up.

Whatever he was going thorough really must have upset him because Stiles hardly ever drank. He usually felt that he needed to be the responsible one.

"Aren't you going to have anything?" He questioned her.

"I'm the hostess and all so it's better if I just-" She started but Stiles cut her off.

"C'mon, Lydia! The night's still young, have a little fun." He grabbed the closest bottle there was and thrusted it into her hand.

She looked at the bottom and back to Stiles desperately, unsure of what to do. She chose the ladder and gave in, taking a swig of Smirnoff.

He beamed at her, as he had never seen Lydia Martin so relaxed and carefree.

"Do you wanna dance or something?" He asked after taking another sip.

Already feeling the side effects, "Am I aloud to bring my bottle?"

He smirked at her. Seeing her this happy obviously made him go wild, "This is your house, remember?"

She just giggled and grabbed his hand to take him to the the dance floor.

The house was covered with sweaty, dressed up teenagers dancing and groping. The air was simply electric and so full of energy, Lydia couldn't help but merge with the rest of her class. The air was thick and the lights were dim. The colors flashing around her made her feel invincible. She knew in her head it was the alcohol coming through, but she didn't care. She placed her arms around Stiles neck and he slid his hands down her back. They danced and bounced while wailing the songs lyrics into each others faces, exciting the electrons around them.

She was happy, even if it was for a short while. She was completely unaware of the fact that her outfit smelt of vodka and perfume, and it was down right _brilliant_. After the song changed, she stopped dancing and stood there breathing down Stiles' neck.

"Can we-" She took another breathe and closed her eyes. "Can we take a breather?"

He smiled, "Of course." He let go of her to lead her to the couch, but she stumbled and fell into him.

He was able to catch her before she hit the floor and helped her sit up.

The room was spinning and Lydia couldn't focus on anything. She no longer felt happy or free but sad and helpless. She placed her face in her hands to help stop the room from making her dizzy.

"Lydia, I think it's time for bed. Can you stand up?" Stiles asked her. He sounded just like her father, and she hated being treated like a child.

She wanted so badly to be able to get up, fix her skirt, and tell Stiles how she didn't need him. But unfortunately being drunk was like being stuck in a cage, and she couldn't conjure up the words out of her mouth.

"Carry me." Was all she was able to say to him. She was beating herself up inside because she had no control over any of her actions. The alcohol was consuming her.

Stiles hoisted her up backwards piggy back style and carried her like a child. Once in his arms, she gave up fighting and gave in to the blasted drink. She knew she was safe with Stiles. He wouldn't let anyone hurt her. Ever.

There was also something about his lengthy hands holding her up under her thighs, something that made her want to embrace it.

He carried her up the stairs and gently rested her on the bed. He came up the stairs without one complaint, something Jackson wouldn't have done. She couldn't tell if he was tired from her weight or not, but if he was, he would never show it. He tucked her in and sat on the edge of the bed, stroking her hair.

She wanted to stay like this forever. When he got up to leave she croaked out "Stiles," He stopped half way across the room and froze, "Can you just stay? For just a couple minutes?"

"Lydia, I don't want to be that guy that takes advantage of girls at parties." He said, not facing her. She could tell he wanted it, though. Sober or not, Lydia Martin was still smarter than the average human being.

"Then- Lay- Just lay." She mumbled out and closed her eyes. Drowsiness hit her like a freight train. She no longer felt alive, she felt like dead weight and could easily drift into a deep sleep.

Without a word, Stiles made his way over to her and slid in the covers behind her. He was new, and he was awkward. Lydia smiled in the darkness.

"Now hold me." He was like her own personal toy, something that would do anything she wanted if asked. But for some reason she didn't have the heart to take full control over him. He was Stiles, the closest thing you could ever get to a big eyed puppy. Using him had to be a sin.

He reached over and put his one harm around her, caressing her body and seeping into her as if they could morph into one body.

Already half way to sleeping, Lydia could hear Stiles speak somewhere low and soft in the distance.

"Happy Halloween, Lydia." He stated, "And I know you won't-"

He cleared his throat, "I know you know won't remember this but-"

She felt him shift and plant a sweet kiss on the top of her head. She let out a sigh before falling asleep, letting him know that she'd remember.

The trick was on him, because she'd _always_ remember.

**Alright guys! This is one of my one shots for my new Teen Woof series that I'm starting :) I know there wasn't much talking, but I thought it would be more sweet and romantic if there was more actions than words. Thank you so much for reading! Review?**


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